


All Set for Murder

by SteveCaster



Category: Death in Paradise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18525865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteveCaster/pseuds/SteveCaster
Summary: Humphrey and the team investigate a murder





	1. Chapter 1

I arrived at work early that day. Well, I say early, more like a few minutes before the chief arrived. I made sure I had plenty of papers in from if me. Well, alright, I made sure I had the paper in front of me. I remember I was looking through the sport's section trying to find out if the horse I'd got a bit of money on had placed, (it hadn't- I am going to have to speak to Big Phil about the quality of his dead certs) when the inspector came in. Hurriedly, I put my paper away, fortunately the chief didn't seem to notice what I'd been reading.

"Gosh I thought I was early! Morning team ... er Fidel here yet?"  
  
Since Fidel was yet to report in, he walked across to his desk and ferreted about. He looked shifty, like he was trying to find something but not looking like he was trying to find something -you know?

After surreptitiously watching him for a few minutes, I asked what was going on.

The chief looked startled and then said that everything was fine. His eyes rested on something on the floor next to his desk.

"Ah," he muttered, picking it up. 

Camille and I looked across and saw he was holding a soft toy rabbit. 

"Aren't you a little bit old for that, Sir?" I asked. He looked a bit confused and then realized I was referring to the rabbit.

"Oh, er no. No, you see well it's not really for me. I just thought that since Rosie was soon to turn one she might like a little gift."

"That's very sweet," said Camille.

I heard someone on the steps outside and Fidel walked in, "What's sweet?"

"Ah, well this is, hopefully..." he handed across the rabbit. Fidel looked delighted and thanked him. 

"Fidel, it suits you," I told him.

"Yes, I know!" he answered laughing. He placed it on his desk as the phone rang.

"Honore Police. Yes. Right. We'll be straight over."

I knew what that meant.

Motorbike time.

* * *

There are very few places on the island which I don't know like the back of my hand. Most of the people who live here and their comings and goings I have a bit of knowledge about. But, as I pulled into Saint Marie Tennis Academy, I realised I hadn't been there in a while. In fact, the last time I'd visited had been several years ago when I'd become friendly with the receptionist, Ada Green. She was up for a little fun, you know? so we knocked about together for a while.

We parked next to an ambulance and were shown to the courts. The chief usually likes us to be on the scene first -Fidel takes the pictures while I nose around for anything suspicious. But on this occasion we all went together. We were met with a frantic scene. The ambulance had been called after Tim, a young player, had been unable to find Katie (another tennis prodigy). Thinking she had gone to practice, he'd headed for the courts. And there Tim had spotted her crumpled body lying on the court. He'd rushed to her aid but had been unable to revive her. Once the ambulance arrived, the crew checked the body but it was no good.

Katie was dead.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

I crouched over the body, my team around me. It appeared Katie had died from a blow to the head. She'd fallen and cracked her head on the court;s surface. There was a little blood on the court.

"Thoughts?" I asked.

"Well, Sir," began Fidel. "It looks like she took a blow here," he pointed at her forehead just above her right eye. "And that blow caused her to fall."  
  
"I agree. Dwayne have a look around and see if you can locate something which could cause a blow like that please. Fidel after you have released the body, you can start taking statements."

I walked back to the gate with Camille. The groundsman, Mr Peters, stood next to it, inspecting the lock. 

"Mr Peters?"

He nodded.

"Was it usual for students to be practising alone?"

"No. Indeed most of them like solitude. They have to book the court first, of course, but they tend to get at least one hour a day by themselves to practise serving and returning serve. If anything it's become more popular since we bought Mr Serve, over there."

He pointed to the other side of the court where a tennis machine stood. The top half was filled with tennis balls and just below that was a tube for the balls to shoot out.

"Yes. That thing can really spit the balls out at some pace. We've had a few injuries from Mr Serve over the last few weeks and the coaching staff warned the pupils to be careful. Tragic accident. Katie was such a talent. We'll all miss her."

"What sort of accidents?"

"Knocks to the head, bruised limbs, that sort of thing."

"Anything life threatening?"

"No. Nothing like this."

"How do these gate locks operate?" asked Camille.

"The club rules state that the player has to tag themselves in. The court gate automatically locks 90 seconds later."  
  
" I'm sorry -tag?"

"Yes. It's a security fob. Touch your tag on the sensor and the gate opens. It's quite handy as it records the time the student enters the court and when they leave."  
  
"I see. And each student has a different tag?"   
  
"Yes"

"And can you tell if the court was locked when Katie died?"

"It was and there's no record of any other tag having been used this morning."  
  
"Right. Well thank you, Mr Peters. That'll be all for now."

I looked about pensively. It could have been an accident. Katie was struck on the side of the head which knocked her out, causing her to hit the ground with such force that she died.

"Hmm. Let's go and meet Mr Serve, Camille," I said.

As we walked across I told Camille about how I'd wanted to play tennis for a local team back in England. I'd considered myself quite the Boris Becker. Absentmindedly, I picked up a tennis ball and began throwing it from hand to hand.

"Sir!" Dwayne walked across. "The bruise above the eye is consistent with the size of a tennis ball."

Unfortunately, as I turned to speak to him, I missed the tennis ball I was catching and it hit Camille on the arm. I apologise and huriedly, inspect Mr Serve. All seems to be in order and then I notice a film of fine power on the top of the tennis ball holder part.

"What's this?" I sniff it. "Fidel, take a sample of this please and get it to the boys at the lab."

"Sir."

 


End file.
